The Eye of Osiris

by R. Austin Freeman

  CHAPTER XVII

  THE ACCUSING FINGER

  Of my wanderings after I left the Museum on that black and dismal _diesirae_, I have but a dim recollection. But I must have traveled a quiteconsiderable distance, since it wanted an hour or two to the time forreturning to the surgery, and I spent the interval walking swiftlythrough streets and squares, unmindful of the happenings around, intentonly on my present misfortune, and driven by a natural impulse to seekrelief in bodily exertion. For mental distress sets up, as it were, asort of induced current of physical unrest; a beneficent arrangement,by which a dangerous excess of emotional excitement may be transformedinto motor energy, and so safely got rid of. The motor apparatus actsas a safety-valve to the psychical; and if the engine races for awhile, with the onset of a bodily fatigue the emotional pressure-gaugereturns to a normal reading.

  And so it was with me. At first I was conscious of nothing but a senseof utter bereavement, of the shipwreck of all my hopes. But, bydegrees, as I threaded my way among the moving crowds, I came to abetter and more worthy frame of mind. After all, I had lost nothingthat I had ever had. Ruth was still all that she had ever been tome--perhaps even more; and if that had been a rich endowment yesterday,why not to-day also? And how unfair it would be to her if I shouldmope and grieve over a disappointment that was no fault of hers and forwhich there was no remedy? Thus I reasoned with myself, and to suchpurpose that, by the time I reached Fetter Lane, my dejection had cometo quite manageable proportions and I had formed the resolution to getback to the _status quo ante bellum_ as soon as possible.

  About eight o'clock, as I was sitting alone in the consulting-room,gloomily persuading myself that I was now quite resigned to theinevitable, Adolphus brought me a registered packet, at the handwritingon which my heart gave such a bound that I had much ado to sign thereceipt. As soon as Adolphus had retired (with undissembled contemptof the shaky signature) I tore open the packet, and as I drew out aletter a tiny box dropped on the table.

  The letter was all too short, and I devoured it over and over againwith the eagerness of a condemned man reading a reprieve:

  "MY DEAR PAUL,

  "_Forgive me for leaving you so abruptly this afternoon, and leavingyou so unhappy, too. I am more sane and reasonable now, and so sendyou greeting and beg you not to grieve for that which can never be. Itis quite impossible, dear friend, and I entreat you, as you care forme, never to speak of it again; never again to make me feel that I cangive you so little when you have given so much. And do not try to seeme for a little while. I shall miss your visits, and so will myfather, who is very fond of you; but it is better that we should notmeet, until we can take up our old relations--if that can ever be._

  "_I am sending you a little keepsake in case we should drift apart onthe eddies of life. It is the ring that I told you about--the one thatmy uncle gave me. Perhaps you may be able to wear it as you have asmall hand, but in any case keep it in remembrance of our friendship.The device on it is the Eye of Osiris, a mystic symbol for which I havea sentimentally superstitious affection, as also had my poor uncle, whoactually bore it tattooed in scarlet on his breast. It signifies thatthe great judge of the dead looks down on men to see that justice isdone and that truth prevails. So I commend you to the good Osiris; mayhis eye be upon you, ever watchful over your welfare in the absence of_

  "_Your affectionate friend,_ "RUTH."

  It was a sweet letter, I thought, even if it carried little comfort;quiet and reticent like its writer, but with an undertone of affection.I laid it down at length, and, taking the ring from its box, examinedit fondly. Though but a copy, it had all the quaintness and feeling ofthe antique original, and, above all, it was fragrant with the spiritof the giver. Dainty and delicate, wrought of silver and gold, with aninlay of copper, I would not have exchanged it for the Koh-i-noor; andwhen I had slipped it on my finger its tiny eye of blue enamel lookedup at me so friendly and companionable that I felt the glamour of theold-world superstition stealing over me too.

  Not a single patient came in this evening, which was well for me (andalso for the patient), as I was able forthwith to write in reply a longletter; but this I shall spare the long-suffering reader excepting itsconcluding paragraph:

  "_And now, dearest, I have said my say; once for all I have said it,and I will not open my mouth on the subject again (I am not actuallyopening it now) 'until the times do alter.' And if the times do neveralter--if it shall come to pass, in due course, that we two shall sitside by side, white-haired, and crinkly-nosed, and lean our poor oldchins upon our sticks and mumble and gibber amicably over the thingsthat might have been if the good Osiris had come up to the scratch--Iwill still be content, because your friendship, Ruth, is better thananother woman's love. So you see, I have taken my gruel and come up totime smiling--if you will pardon the pugilistic metaphor--and I promiseyou loyally to do your bidding and never again to distress you._

  "_Your faithful and loving friend,_ "PAUL."

  This letter I addressed and stamped, and then, with a wry grimace whichI palmed off on myself (but not on Adolphus) as a cheerful smile, Iwent out and dropped it into the post-box; after which I furtherdeluded myself by murmuring _Nunc dimittis_ and assuring myself thatthe incident was now absolutely closed.

  But despite this comfortable assurance I was, in the days thatfollowed, an exceedingly miserable young man. It is all very well towrite down troubles of this kind as trivial and sentimental. They arenothing of the kind. When a man of essentially serious nature hasfound the one woman of all the world who fulfils his highest ideals ofwomanhood, who is, in fact, a woman in ten thousand, to whom he hasgiven all that he has to give of love and worship, the sudden wreck ofall his hopes is no small calamity. And so I found it. Resign myselfas I would to the bitter reality, the ghost of the might-have-beenhaunted me night and day, so that I spent my leisure wanderingabstractedly about the streets, always trying to banish thought andnever for an instant succeeding. A great unrest was upon me; and whenI received a letter from Dick Barnard announcing his arrival atMadeira, homeward bound, I breathed a sigh of relief. I had no plansfor the future, but I longed to be rid of the now irksome, routine ofthe practise--to be free to come and go when and how I pleased.

  One evening, as I sat consuming with little appetite my solitarysupper, there fell on me a sudden sense of loneliness. The desire thatI had hitherto felt to be alone with my own miserable reflections gaveplace to a yearning for human companionship. That, indeed, which Icraved for most was forbidden, and I must abide by my lady's wishes;but there were my friends in the Temple. It was more than a week sinceI had seen them; in fact, we had not met since the morning of thatunhappiest day of my life. They would be wondering what had become ofme. I rose from the table, and having filled my pouch from a tin oftobacco, set forth for King's Bench Walk.

  As I approached the entry of No. 5A in the gathering darkness I metThorndyke himself emerging encumbered with two deck-chairs, areading-lantern, and a book.

  "Why, Berkeley!" he exclaimed, "is it indeed thou? We have beenwondering what had become of you."

  "It _is_ a long time since I looked you up," I admitted.

  He scrutinized me attentively by the light of the entry lamp, and thenremarked: "Fetter Lane doesn't seem to be agreeing with you very well,my son. You are looking quite thin and peaky."

  "Well, I've nearly done with it. Barnard will be back in about tendays. His ship is putting in at Madeira to coal and take in somecargo, and then he is coming home. Where are you going with thosechairs?"

  "I am going to sit down at the end of the Walk by the railings. It'scooler there than indoors. If you will wait a moment I will go andfetch another chair for Jervis, though he won't be back for a littlewhile." He ran up the stairs, and presently returned with a thirdchair, and we carried our impedimenta down to the quiet corner of theWalk.

  "So your term of servitude is coming to an end," said he, when we hadplaced the chairs and hung the lante
rn on the railings. "Any othernews?"

  "No. Have you any?"

  "I am afraid I have not. All my inquiries have yielded negativeresults. There is, of course, a considerable body of evidence, and itall seems to point one way. But I am unwilling to make a decisive movewithout something more definite. I am really waiting for confirmationor otherwise of my ideas on the subject; for some new item of evidence."

  "I didn't know there was any evidence."

  "Didn't you?" said Thorndyke. "But you know as much as I know. Youhave all the essential facts; but apparently you haven't collated themand extracted their meaning. If you had, you would have found themcuriously significant."

  "I suppose I mustn't ask what their significance is?"

  "No, I think not. When I am conducting a case I mention my surmises tonobody--not even to Jervis. Then I can say confidently that there hasbeen no leakage. Don't think I distrust you. Remember that mythoughts are my client's property, and that the essence of strategy isto keep the enemy in the dark."

  "Yes, I see that. Of course I ought not to have asked."

  "You ought not to need to ask," Thorndyke replied, with a smile; "youshould put the facts together and reason from them yourself."

  While we had been talking I had noticed Thorndyke glance at meinquisitively from time to time. Now after an interval of silence, heasked suddenly:

  "Is anything amiss, Berkeley? Are you worrying about your friends'affairs?"

  "No, not particularly; though their prospects don't look very rosy."

  "Perhaps they are not quite so bad as they look," said he. "But I amafraid something is troubling you. All your gay spirits seem to haveevaporated." He paused for a few moments, and then added: "I don'twant to intrude on your private affairs, but if I can help you byadvice or otherwise, remember that we are old friends and that you aremy academic offspring."

  Instinctively, with a man's natural reticence, I began to mumble ahalf-articulate disclaimer; and then I stopped. After all, why shouldI not confide in him? He was a good man and a wise man, full of humansympathy, as I knew, though so cryptic and secretive in hisprofessional capacity. And I wanted a friend badly just now.

  "I'm afraid," I began shyly, "it is not a matter that admits of muchhelp, and it's hardly the sort of thing that I ought to worry you bytalking about----"

  "If it is enough to make you unhappy, my dear fellow, it is enough tomerit serious consideration by your friend; so if you don't mindtelling me----"

  "Of course I don't, sir!" I exclaimed.

  "Then fire away; and don't call me 'sir.' We are brother practitionersnow."

  Thus encouraged, I poured out the story of my little romance; bashfullyat first and with halting phrases, but later, with more freedom andconfidence. He listened with grave attention, and once or twice put aquestion when my narrative became a little disconnected. When I hadfinished he laid his hand softly on my arm.

  "You have had rough luck, Berkeley. I don't wonder that you aremiserable. I am more sorry than I can tell you."

  "Thank you," I said. "It's exceedingly good of you to listen sopatiently, but it's a shame for me to pester you with my sentimentaltroubles."

  "Now, Berkeley, you don't think that, and I hope you don't think that Ido. We should be bad biologists and worse physicians if we shouldunderestimate the importance of that which is nature's chiefest care.The one salient biological truth is the paramount importance of sex;and we are deaf and blind if we do not hear and see it in everythingthat lives when we look abroad upon the world; when we listen to thespring song of the birds, or when we consider the lilies of the field.And as is man to the lower organisms, so is human love to their merelyreflex manifestations of sex. I will maintain, and you will agree withme, I know, that the love of a serious and honorable man for a womanwho is worthy of him is the most momentous of all human affairs. It isthe foundation of social life, and its failure is a serious calamity,not only to those whose lives may be thereby spoilt, but to society atlarge."

  "It's a serious enough matter for the parties concerned," I agreed;"but that is no reason why they should bore their friends."

  "But they don't. Friends should help one another and think it aprivilege."

  "Oh, I shouldn't mind coming to you for help, knowing you as I do. Butno one can help a poor devil in a case like this--and certainly not amedical jurist."

  "Oh, come, Berkeley!" he protested, "don't rate us too low. Thehumblest of creatures has its uses--'even the little pismire,' youknow, as Izaak Walton tells us. Why, I have got substantial help froma stamp-collector. And then reflect upon the motor-scorcher and theearthworm and the blow-fly. All these lowly creatures play their partsin the scheme of nature; and shall we cast out the medical jurist asnothing worth?"

  I laughed dejectedly at my teacher's genial irony.

  "What I meant," said I, "was that there is nothing to be done butwait--perhaps for ever. I don't know why she isn't able to marry me,and I mustn't ask her. She can't be married already."

  "Certainly not. She told you explicitly that there was no man in thecase."

  "Exactly. And I can think of no other valid reason, excepting that shedoesn't care enough for me. That would be a perfectly sound reason,but then it would only be a temporary one, not the insuperable obstaclethat she assumes to exist, especially as we really got on excellentlytogether. I hope it isn't some confounded perverse feminine scruple.I don't see how it could be; but women are most frightfully tortuousand wrong-headed at times."

  "I don't see," said Thorndyke, "why we should cast about for perverselyabnormal motives when there is a perfectly reasonable explanationstaring us in the face."

  "Is there?" I exclaimed. "I see none."

  "You are, not unnaturally, overlooking some of the circumstances thataffect Miss Bellingham; but I don't suppose she has failed to grasptheir meaning. Do you realize what her position really is? I meanwith regard to her uncle's disappearance?"

  "I don't think I quite understand you."

  "Well, there is no use in blinking the facts," said Thorndyke. "Theposition is this: if John Bellingham ever went to his brother's houseat Woodford, it is nearly certain that he went there after his visit toHurst. Mind, I say '_if_ he went'; I don't say that I believe he did.But it is stated that he appears to have gone there; and if he did go,he was never seen alive afterward. Now, he did not go in at the frontdoor. No one saw him enter the house. But there was a back gate,which John Bellingham knew, and which had a bell which rang in thelibrary. And you will remember that, when Hurst and Jellicoe called,Mr. Bellingham had only just come in. Previous to that time MissBellingham had been alone in the library; that is to say, she was alonein the library at the very time when John Bellingham is said to havemade his visit. That is the position, Berkeley. Nothing pointed hasbeen said up to the present. But, sooner or later, if John Bellinghamis not found, dead or alive, the question will be opened. Then it iscertain that Hurst, in self-defense, will make the most of any factsthat may transfer suspicion from him to some one else. And that someone else will be Miss Bellingham."

  I sat for some moments literally paralyzed with horror. Then my dismaygave place to indignation. "But damn it!" I exclaimed, starting up--"Ibeg your pardon--but could anyone have the infernal audacity toinsinuate that that gentle, refined lady murdered her uncle?"

  "That is what will be hinted, if not plainly asserted; and she knowsit. And that being so, is it difficult to understand why she shouldrefuse to allow you to be publicly associated with her? To run therisk of dragging your honorable name into the sordid transactions ofthe police-court or the Old Bailey? To invest it, perhaps, with adreadful notoriety?"

  "Oh, don't! for God's sake! It is too horrible! Not that I would carefor myself. I would be proud to share her martyrdom of ignominy, if ithad to be; but it is the sacrilege, the blasphemy of even thinking ofher in such terms that enrages me."

  "Yes," said Thorndyke; "I understand and sympathize with you
. Indeed,I share your righteous indignation at this dastardly affair. So youmustn't think me brutal for putting the case so plainly."

  "I don't. You have only shown me the danger that I was fool enough notto see. But you seem to imply that this hideous position has beenbrought about deliberately."

  "Certainly I do! This is no chance affair. Either the appearancesindicate the real events--which I am sure they do not--or they havebeen created of a set purpose to lead to false conclusions. But thecircumstances convince me that there has been a deliberate plot; and Iam waiting--in no spirit of Christian patience, I can tell you--to laymy hand on the wretch who has done this."

  "What are you waiting for?" I asked.

  "I am waiting for the inevitable," he replied; "for the false move thatthe most artful criminal invariably makes. At present he is lying low;but presently he will make a move, and then I shall have him."

  "But he may go on lying low. What will you do then?"

  "Yes, that is the danger. We may have to deal with the perfect villainwho knows when to leave well alone. I have never met him, but he mayexist, nevertheless."

  "And then we should have to stand by and see our friends go under."

  "Perhaps," said Thorndyke; and we both subsided into gloomy and silentreflection.

  The place was peaceful and quiet, as only a backwater of London can be.Occasional hoots from far-away tugs and steamers told of the busy lifedown below in the crowded Pool. A faint hum of traffic was borne infrom the streets outside the precincts, and the shrill voices ofnewspaper boys came in unceasing chorus from the direction of CarmeliteStreet. They were too far away to be physically disturbing, but theexcited yells, toned down as they were by distance, neverthelessstirred the very marrow in my bones, so dreadfully suggestive were theyof those possibilities of the future at which Thorndyke had hinted.They seemed like the sinister shadows of coming misfortunes.

  Perhaps they called up the same association of ideas in Thorndyke'smind, for he remarked presently:

  "The newsvendor is abroad to-night like a bird of ill-omen. Somethingunusual has happened; some public or private calamity, most likely, andthese yelling ghouls are out to feast on the remains. The newspapermen have a good deal in common with the carrion-birds that hover over abattle-field."

  Again we subsided into silence and reflection. Then, after aninterval, I asked:

  "Would it be possible for me to help in any way in this investigationof yours?"

  "That is exactly what I have been asking myself," replied Thorndyke."It would be right and proper that you should, and I think you might."

  "How?" I asked eagerly.

  "I can't say offhand; but Jervis will be going away for his holidayalmost at once--in fact, he will go off actual duty to-night. There isvery little doing; the long vacation is close upon us, and I can dowithout him. But if you would care to come down here and take hisplace, you would be very useful to me; and if there should be anythingto be done in the Bellinghams' case, I am sure you would make up inenthusiasm for any deficiency in experience."

  "I couldn't really take Jervis's place," said I, "but if you would letme help you in any way it would be a great kindness. I would ratherclean your boots than be out of it altogether."

  "Very well. Let us leave it that you come here as soon as Barnard hasdone with you. You can have Jervis's room, which he doesn't often usenowadays, and you will be more happy here than elsewhere, I know. Imay as well give you my latch-key now. I have a duplicate upstairs,and you understand that my chambers are yours too from this moment."

  He handed me the latch-key and I thanked him warmly from my heart, forI felt sure that the suggestion was made, not for any use that I shouldbe to him, but for my own peace of mind. I had hardly finishedspeaking when a quick step on the paved walk caught my ear.

  "Here is Jervis," said Thorndyke. "We will let him know that there isa locum tenens ready to step into his shoes when he wants to be off."He flashed the lantern across the path, and a few moments later hisjunior stepped up briskly with a bundle of newspapers tucked under hisarm.

  It struck me that Jervis looked at me a little queerly when herecognized me in the dim light; also he was a trifle constrained in hismanner, as if my presence were an embarrassment. He listened toThorndyke's announcement of our newly made arrangement without muchenthusiasm and with none of his customary facetious comments. Andagain I noticed a quick glance at me, half curious, half uneasy, andwholly puzzling to me.

  "That's all right," he said when Thorndyke had explained the situation."I daresay you'll find Berkeley as useful as me, and, in any case,he'll be better here than staying on with Barnard." He spoke withunwonted gravity, and there was in his tone a solicitude for me thatattracted my notice and that of Thorndyke as well, for the latterlooked at him curiously, though he made no comment. After a shortsilence, however, he asked: "And what news does my learned brotherbring? There is a mighty shouting among the outer barbarians and I seea bundle of newspapers under my learned friend's arm. Has anything inparticular happened?"

  Jervis looked more uncomfortable than ever. "Well--yes," he repliedhesitatingly, "something has happened--there! It's no use beatingabout the bush; Berkeley may as well learn it from me as from thoseyelling devils outside." He took a couple of papers from his bundleand silently handed one to me and the other to Thorndyke.

  Jervis's ominous manner, naturally enough, alarmed me not a little. Iopened the paper with a nameless dread. But whatever my vague fears,they fell far short of the occasion; and when I saw those yells fromwithout crystallized into scare head-lines and flaming capitals Iturned for a moment sick and dizzy with fear.

  The paragraph was only a short one, and I read it through in less thana minute.

  "THE MISSING FINGER

  "DRAMATIC DISCOVERY AT WOODFORD

  "The mystery that has surrounded the remains of a mutilated human body,portions of which have been found in various places in Kent and Essex,has received a partial and very sinister solution. The police have,all along, suspected that those remains were those of a Mr. JohnBellingham who disappeared under circumstances of some suspicion abouttwo years ago. There is now no doubt upon the subject, for the fingerwhich was missing from the hand that was found at Sidcup has beendiscovered at the bottom of a disused well _together with a ring_,which has been identified as one habitually worn by Mr. John Bellingham.

  "The house in the garden of which the well is situated was the propertyof the murdered man, and was occupied at the time of the disappearanceby his brother, Mr. Godfrey Bellingham. But the latter left it verysoon after, and it has been empty ever since. Just lately it has beenput in repair, and it was in this way that the well came to be emptiedand cleaned out. It seems that Detective-Inspector Badger, who wassearching the neighborhood for further remains, heard of the emptyingof the well and went down in the bucket to examine the bottom, where hefound the three bones and the ring.

  "Thus the identity of the body is established beyond all doubt, and thequestion that remains is, Who killed John Bellingham? It may beremembered that a trinket, apparently broken from his watch-chain, wasfound in the grounds of this house on the day that he disappeared, andthat he was never again seen alive. What may be the import of thesefacts time will show."

  That was all; but it was enough. I dropped the paper to the ground andglanced round furtively at Jervis, who sat gazing gloomily at the toesof his boots. It was horrible! It was incredible! The blow was socrushing that it left my faculties numb, and for a while I seemedunable even to think intelligibly.

  I was aroused by Thorndyke's voice--calm, business-like, composed:

  "Time will show, indeed! But meanwhile we must go warily. And don'tbe unduly alarmed, Berkeley. Go home, take a good dose of bromide witha little stimulant, and turn in. I am afraid this has been rather ashock to you."

  I rose from my chair like one in a dream and held out my hand toThorndyke; and even in the dim light and in my dazed condition Inotic
ed that his face bore a look that I had never seen before; thelook of a granite mask of Fate--grim, stern, inexorable.

  My two friends walked with me as far as the gateway at the top of InnerTemple Lane, and as we reached the entry a stranger, coming quickly upthe Lane, overtook and passed us. In the glare of the lamp outside theporter's lodge he looked at us quickly over his shoulder, and though hepassed on without halt or greeting, I recognized him with a certaindull surprise which I did not understand then and do not understandnow. It was Mr. Jellicoe.

  I shook hands once more with my friends and strode out into FleetStreet, but as soon as I was outside the gate I made direct forNevill's Court. What was in my mind I do not know; only that someinstinct of protection led me there, where my lady lay unconscious ofthe hideous menace that hung over her. At the entrance to the Court atall, powerful man was lounging against the wall, and he seemed to lookat me curiously as I passed; but I hardly noticed him and strodeforward into the narrow passage. By the shabby gateway of the house Ihalted and looked up at such of the windows as I could see over thewall. They were all dark. All the inmates, then, were in bed.Vaguely comforted by this, I walked on to the New Street end of theCourt and looked out. Here, too, a man--a tall, thick-set man--wasloitering; and as he looked inquisitively into my face I turned andreentered the Court, slowly retracing my steps. As I again reached thegate of the house I stopped to look once more at the windows, andturning I found the man whom I had last noticed close behind me. Then,in a flash of dreadful comprehension, I understood. These two wereplainclothes policemen.

  For a moment a blind fury possessed me. An insane impulse urged me togive battle to this intruder; to avenge upon this person the insult ofhis presence. Fortunately the impulse was but momentary, and Irecovered myself without making any demonstration. But the appearanceof those two policemen brought the peril into the immediate present,imparted to it a horrible actuality. A chilly sweat of terror stood onmy forehead, and my ears were ringing when I walked with falteringsteps out into Fetter Lane.